


we tell our story

by Sanna_Black_Slytherin



Series: The Other 51 [39]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alex just really freaking likes modern tech okay, Alexander Hamilton being petty, Asexual Tony Stark, Bisexual Alexander Hamilton, Canon Era, Crack, Fluff, Gen, Hamilton vs Trump: Round Twenty-Two, Historians being fanboys, Humor, M/M, Pride Parade, Resurrection, Thomas Jefferson Being an Asshole, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-18
Updated: 2017-02-18
Packaged: 2018-09-25 05:53:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9805514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sanna_Black_Slytherin/pseuds/Sanna_Black_Slytherin
Summary: Their trip to the pride parade went off better than Steve had expected. Yes, Alex had spent over four hours researching flags and symbols of the various identities and sexualities in painstaking detail, and yes, he then insisted on wearing clothes that made him look like a badly done modern art and John like the physical representation of epilepsy, andyes,Steve and Bruce – having been deemed the second-most responsible adult, to his indignation – had to sit down with Thor and explain what was socially acceptable to do and what was not (including, but not limited to, smashing people in a show of camaraderie), but overall, the actual trip went off without a hitch.In which there's a pride parade, Monopoly, Alex discovers the ten dollar bill and Mount Rushmore, a cat is adopted, and Chernow makes an appearance.





	

**Author's Note:**

> The cat. It started with me going 'hey, what if Alex did the thing that Martha did, except with Gwash?' and ended with 'hey, what if I wrote a 5k fic?'
> 
> Enjoy.

There were very few rules in the Avengers Tower, but they were to be followed to the letter. They were there _for a reason_.

Rule one: do not mess with the coffee machines; actually, don't mess with anyone's coffee, _period_. This included, but was not limited to, the coffee machines in Tony's penthouse, in the workshop, on every residential floor, and – most importantly –on the R &D floor. Again, this rule was in place for a _reason_ – nobody wanted a repeat of the day when Steve sabotaged all the coffee machines just as both Tony and Alex were in the middle of their respective projects.

Rule two: Tony wasn't allowed to do the grocery shopping, because all the Avengers ended up with was expensive if stunningly exquisite liquor that John swore up and down was undrinkable, to which Alex retorted that John was sheltered and never learned to find the joy in discovering new things, which devolved into a shouting match, which then devolved into Alex stalking out of the living room like the diva he was, with John yelling after him to grow up, and not only were the Avengers stuck in the middle of what looked to be a literal ancient argument, there still _wasn't any food._

And finally, rule three: Alex wasn't allowed anywhere near Monopoly – not after the casualties of the Avengers' one and only game, proposed by Tony one evening after they'd all had a tad too much to drink, which included the penthouse sofa, two vents, a box of scented candles, and a fork. (Miraculously, the Monopoly board survived, only to be smashed by Thor the following morning, in his enthusiasm to help his fellow teammates to 'vanquish the foul pain of intoxication'.)

This was caused by the fact that Alex had quite possibly the most rotten luck Tony has ever seen, and managed to bankrupt himself in ten turns. Tony had scoffed at him. “And you were in charge of the nation's finances,” he muttered. The Avengers had unanimously agreed not to discuss – or even think about for any extended periods of time – the events that followed, although Thor did take some convincing in the form of poptarts.

In short, _nobody_ enjoyed playing board games serving as the physical representation of capitalism with Alexander Hamilton, and not only because he just _would not shut up_.

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"John," Alex called out, striding into the room.

"Hmmm?" John looked up from where he had been studying the most recent exposé on done political scandal or other — something about a woman having an affair with her assistant — which infuriated the Republicans to no end. Really, he thought, it was nice to see with his own two eyes that women felt free enough to have open affairs, let alone with another woman. No matter any of America's current faults — and there were quite a few, as Alex never failed to rant about — the fight for gender equality was going in the right direction, especially now that America had her first female president.

“I've discovered something exciting,” Alex declared loudly. Then again, Alex didn't seem to even have a 'quiet' setting.

John stifled a sigh. "That you're on the ten dollar bill?" he predicted long-sufferingly.

Alex stared. "How did you—" he began, before his expression grew thunderous. "You knew!" he accused his partner. " _You knew_ , and you haven't seen fit to inform me about that slightly important fact that _I. Am. On. Money_ ," he emphasized every word with a pause.

John snorted. "You would have found out yourself, had you not been so enamoured with those pieces of plastic."

"Credit cards," Alex corrected him habitually. "And they are a wonderful example of modern technology facilitating life and preventing crime, because, even though it is possible to hack one, it is much harder to do that than to simply steal a wallet since the security—"

John shut Alex up by kissing him rather forcefully. Alex's words drowned in John's lips, and he practically melted against John's body.

John ended the kiss after another quick peck, leaning his forehead against Alex's. He smiled fondly. "Had I known that silencing you was simply a matter of a kiss, I would have done it ages ago."

"You conniving snake," Alex teased. But no, that's not actually what I wanted to say. Do you know who's on the twenty dollar bill?" Without waiting for John's response, Alex continued. "Andrew _fucking_ Jackson. You know, the guy responsible for the Trail of Tears? The murderer of millions of Indians? He is literally the human personification of a pile of shit. I have never thought that I'd find a person more despicable than Thomas Jefferson, but Andrew Jackson has managed the impossible. He is plainly disgusting," Alex ranted. John sighed internally; it looked to be a long one if he didn't stop Alex now.

“It's good that you're finally moving on from your obsession over Jefferson, because, to be honest, it is kind of creeping me out at this point,” John told him, taking a step back in an effort to create some space for him and Alex to talk.

Alex rolled his eyes. “You sound just like my therapist,” he grouched.

“That means I'm doing something well,” John shot back. “By the way, how _did_ you manage to find a therapist with whom you could be honest?” he frowned.

Alex smiled. “You would be amazed at what kinds of people inhabit this world in these times.”

“Did you take your meds today yet?” John asked at length.

“Yeah,” Alex confirmed. “I have inquired whether JARVIS could be so polite as to remind me every morning.”

John winced. “You switch back and forth between our language and theirs,” he complained.

Alex shrugged. “What can I say? I'm multitasking.”

“That's not even the definition of multitasking. That's so far from the definition of multitasking that it's as deep in the closet as I used to be.”

“Not since the parade,” Alex pointed out.

John grinned. “No, not since the parade. You literally forced me to wear a rainbow tee-shirt, with a rainbow cape trailing behind me. I don't think the message could have been clearer had I shouted 'I am gay!' throughout the parade.”

“You did that, too,” Alex snorted. “And, for the record, I, too, wore a theme-appropriate tee-shirt and cape.”

John scoffed. “Yes, but yours were in three colours. Mine had double that.”

“Hey, don't diss bisexuality,” Alex said, closing the space between him and John, then capturing John's lips in a kiss.

“Do I ever,” John smiled into the kiss. “Bisexuality rocks. In fact, why don't I prove to you just how much I love bisexuality?” he winked suggestively.

Alex laughed. “Why, dear Laurens, I'd be delighted to take you up on that offer.”

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Alex adopted a cat.

He called him Washington, in honour of Martha's Hamilton. Washington loved to play with John's pens, to sleep on Alex's lap, and to hiss at Tony. In short, Washington _hated_ Tony, adored Alex – and, surprisingly, Clint – to bits and pieces, and tolerated everyone else. “Hot-tempered, just like his namesake,” John remarked whenever Tony complained.

Naturally, Tony hated the cat as much as the cat hated him. This made for an interesting cohabitation: two enormous egos fighting for a limited amount of space within the Avengers Tower.

This was, incidentally, also how Alex and John were introduced to the concept of modern betting.

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A scream echoed through one of the residential floors of Avengers Tower. It was a credit to the Avengers' battle readiness that, within thirty seconds, the entire team minus Bruce was assembled at the site of the scream, weapons drawn out, minds already running through calculations of probable battle length and collateral damage.

What they were greeted to, however, was the sight of Alex staring in shock at a hologram JARVIS had pulled him. JARVIS, bless him, was trying to calm Alex down in his own awkward way. Tony reminded himself to program in a little more social understanding because, sentient or not, JARVIS was singularly bad at human emotions.

“General Hamilton,” JARVIS had reverted to addressing Alex in a more familiar way, “please calm yourself. This isn't the end of the world,” he went on, and was that a hint of worry in his voice? _Woah_. Tony hadn't known that Alex had become best buddies with JARVIS.

Then again, it was far more probable that John had befriended the AI, and that JARVIS was simply filling in for John when the man in question was unable to take care of Alex, or something along these lines.

“Except _it is_ ,” Alex insisted, “and okay, now Tony _had_ to know what this whole mess was about. This is a n unprecedented disaster. To think that his face is carved in stone, _permanently_ , and that people are enjoying it and taking photos and selfies without a yota of understanding as to the significance of choosing those four presidents. The other–“

Realization dawned on Tony, illuminating his brain like the metaphorical lightbulb. He stared at Alex. “Are you trying to tell me that you screamed like a little girl–“

“I did _not!_ ” Alex sounded affronted.

“–because Thomas Jefferson is on Mount Rushmore?” the genius continued.

“That sort of thing is an honour, an honour Jefferson does not deserve. What did he do? Try to destroy our economy, dismantled our Navy – which proved disastrous eight years later,” and also proved that Alex had too much time on his hands, “bought a fuckton of land he didn't even know the contents of, refused to pay the very men he sent out to discover said land, and kept slaves. The _other_ three presidents deserve that honour – Washington led us to the victory resulting in the creation of this country, then governed as president for eight years and set a strong precedent in matters too numerous to even list; Lincoln abolished slavery and ended the most bloody conflict in American history; and Teddy Roosevelt–“

“I love how you're not even pretending to be professional anymore,” Clint snorted.

Alex rolled his eyes. “ _Everyone_ calls him Teddy,” he retorted. “Anyway, Teddy Roosevelt was the epitome of a badass hero: born very sickly, he overcame these medical problems, became a cowboy who operated a cattle ranch, as well as an author of thirty-five books, became a war hero, revolutionized politics during his era, and frightened his own party so much that they moved him to the 'powerless' role of vice president, except _joke's on them_ because the president was shot and Roosevelt became the youngest United States President in history. He promised equal chance for all to succeed. He established a myriad of new national parks, forests, and monuments intended to preserve the nation's natural resources. In foreign policy, he focused on Central America, where he began construction of the Panama Canal. He greatly expanded the United States Navy–“

“We know all this, fanboy,” Clint interrupted. “We're not Sherlock Holmes.”

Alex opened his mouth as if to argue, but a rustle from the doorway made the entire group turn back, just in time to see John enter the room. He glanced between them quizzically. “I heard a scream, but I thought– never mind. What's going on?” he asked.

Tony smirked. “Your dear boyfriend discovered Mount Rushmore.”

“Mount Rushmore?” John frowned. “What's that?”

“Simultaneously the greatest gift to history, and the ultimate curse of humankind,” Alex answered before anyone else had the time to formulate a response that wouldn't include a crash course in the last hundred years of American politics. At John's continuously puzzled expression, he sighed. “Thomas Jefferson's face is carved in a mountain.”

“Ah,” John replied succinctly. “Yes, that would have done it,” he nodded, acting far calmer than anyone else. He took a few steps in Alex's direction, frowning as he took in the rings under Alex's eyes. “How long have you been working? Have you been pulling all-nighters again?” his voice was a fusion of concerned and scolding.

Alex shrugged. “I consider the night to be a perfectly reasonable time to get some work done. Besides, my body is young again. I might as well use it to my advantage.”

“By working yourself to exhaustion?” John's voice sounded incredulous even to his own ears. “Haven't you once told me of this Princeton graduate who tried to graduate early but, as a result, his health suffered permanent damage and he had to take an entire year just to return to some semblance of health?”

Natasha and Clint exchanged amused looks, clearly enjoying this, while Tony was already looking bored, probably trying to figure out how to excuse himself and return to his workshop so that he could implement the improvements he had been thinking about for JARVIS, and Steve and Thor looked mightily uncomfortable with being in the middle of what seemed to be a well-worn argument between two short-tempered men who could explode at any second.

“Yeah, well,” Alex grimaced, “James Madison was a complete and utter asshole – owning slaves, to boot – and deserved every moment–“

“Which doesn't mean that you won't suffer the same consequences,” John insisted. “Don't make me break Rule One and drug your coffee.”

Alex stared at John in disappointment. "Treacherous fiend, how you have betrayed me," he stated dramatically.

Beside him, Tony made an exaggerated gasp that sounded like a garbled 'how dare you', only to follow that up with a sharp intake of breath when Natasha punched his shoulder. “Rude,” he hissed.

“Behave,” she retorted in the same tone.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Well,” he cut Alex off in the middle of a response, “I'm going to take my leave, since you two lovebirds clearly need some time alone to work on your issues,” he ignored Clint's snort at the irony in his statement.

The rest of the Avengers took that as their cue to take their leave as well, although Tony could have gambled his entire share of Stark Industries stocks on Clint going disappearing up into the vents in order to continue to spy on the arguing couple, because he was creepy like that.

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Their trip to the pride parade went off better than Steve had expected. Yes, Alex had spent over four hours researching flags and symbols of the various identities and sexualities in painstaking detail, and yes, he then insisted on wearing clothes that made him look like a badly done modern art and John like the physical representation of epilepsy, and _yes_ , Steve and Bruce – having been deemed the second-most responsible adult, to his indignation – had to sit down with Thor and explain what was socially acceptable to do and what was not (including, but not limited to, smashing people in a show of camaraderie), but overall, the actual trip went off without a hitch.

Alex and John marched together, hands linked, and Natasha surreptitiously snapped several pictures for posterity. Thor found a group of non-binary people who seemed to be more than a little intoxicated and who welcomed Thor with open arms, their voices at roughly the same volume as Thor's usual speech.

Bruce took it all in with a smile, while Clint and Steve got into an argument about whether Alex was too conspicuous on social media, specifically Twitter. “Alex's gone on a rant about Donald Trump going on a ran on… well, _everything_ ,” Clint complained.

Steve rolled his eyes. “Don't be such a hypocrite, Clint. We have all vented about Trump, and we all know that we need someone to question the claims of Darth Orange the Almost-Emperor of America,” he said in a deadpan voice, prompting a snicker from both Bruce and from the nearby marchers.

While their presence at first caused a furfore, it eventually died down. The biggest upheaval seemed to be over Steve, who was proudly displaying a painted bisexuality flag on his cheeks (again, Alex). Steve was a little awkward about people finding his sexuality interesting, but agreed to pose for pictures. “Representation,” he had explained.

“I'm proud of my New Yorkers,” Alex murmured into John's ear, watching as people began jumping around Steve, posing with him and putting up pictures of him on various social media.

John raised an eyebrow. “ _Your_ New Yorkers?” he echoed disbelievingly.

Alex grinned. “What can I say? I'm possessive of New York.”

They ended up losing track of Tony early on, eventually resorting to issuing a frantic search of the crowd, before John pointed to a group of asexuals happily munching on cake, which, incidentally, happened to include Tony.

At Steve's baffled look, Tony rolled his eyes in that special way of his that indicated that his esteem for Steve just bottomed like stocks after Trump commends something, before holding up his right hand pointedly, showing off a black ring. "I thought that it was a memorabilia," Steve flushed.

Tony smirked. "Nope," he said, exchanging a knowing smirk with Alex. "You're lucky you're adorable, popsicle, because you can be oblivious as hell."

“Do your research,” Alex added, because he was a little shit and Tony has never loved him as much as in that moment.

At one point, Steve and Clint disappeared off into the crowd in search of their own groups, promising to bring back ice cream on their way back.

A while later, Alex began talking to a woman wearing t-shirt saying 'I'm pan-sexual' with the picture of a pan underneath. “Everyone matters,” he waved his arms around enthusiastically, and even John took a step back in order not to be accidentally hit by Alex's flailing limbs. “No matter if you're gay, straight, bi, ace, demi, you matter. No matter if you're cis, trans, genderfluid, non-binary, you matter. No matter–“ Natasha briefly closed her eyes. “–if you're an extravert or an introvert, you still matter. You always matter. You are not alone. As Pasek and Paul wrote: 'No one deserves to be forgotten. No one deserves to fade away.' And that's why I fight for equal rights,” Alex finished defiantly, staring at the woman expectantly.

His conversation partner nodded enthusiastically, then turned to her friend, and Natasha thought that that it would be the end of it, but Alex's speech had apparently attracted quite a crowd. Alex being Alex, he kept going.

“You know,” Natasha whispered to Bruce, her long-suffering time traveller babysitter, “it's moments like these that continually reminds me of the fact that Alex is incredibly lucky that there are no paintings of him at this age, because if there were, it would be a simple matter of comparing him with that portrait, considering how much like… himself… he is acting. Still, he's going to have problems in a few years.”

Bruce shrugged. “We'll just say he's a Hamilton descendant.”

“And when someone tries to trace his fake genealogy tree, and realizes that it's a lie?” Natasha persisted, ever the realist – _no, not a pessimist, piss off, Strange_.

Bruce huffed. “You're not honestly suggesting that people would find it more believable that he's _the_ Alexander Hamilton from two-hundred years into the past than that he's a secret Hamilton descendant.”

Natasha shrugged. “A few years ago, people didn't believe in superheroes, mutants, or extraterrestrials. People can change, and as they do, so do their worldviews. It's not as impossible as we seem to think. Also, people are beginning to take notice.”

While they had been talking, Alex managed to attract a crowd even bigger than the one he'd started out with, and people were nodding and whispering as he spoke. A few even had their phones out – Tony was glaring at the iPhone owners like they had personally offended him – filming Alex. Natasha did not doubt that, within a matter of minutes, Alex would become a Twitter phenomena.

Perfect. Just _perfect_ . Why was this her concern instead of SHIELD's? Oh, _right._ Because they had lied to Fury. Why had they lied to Fury again? Oh, _right_. For Alex and John's sakes.

Maybe it was time to reconsider this decision – preferably before some historian with an overactive imagination and too much time on their hands made the connection between the outspoken Alex Andre and Alexander Hamilton. As badass as she was, and she knew _exactly_ how amazing she was, her skill set didn't measure up to Fury's at his best. In other words, Fury was not a smart man to piss off for good. Hiding something was all good and well as long as it didn't get out, but when it did and Fury was made to look like an idiot for not knowing it, someone was going to pay for it. (With Natasha's luck, it would be either her or Clint.)

She had to drag Alex off before he said something irreversibly stupid – and he had a long history of doing that.

She chanced a look at Tony, and saw that, for once, they seemed to be of the same mindset, although maybe not for the same reasons, but it didn't matter to Natasha as long as he got Mr Loquacious to shut up.

Tony's secret weapon, it turned out, was John. John was a good secret weapon in general, but against Alex? Unbeatable. Natasha considered naming John a symbolic Avenger, because anyone that could get Alex to shut up was a being of awesome powers.

John leaned in and whispered something into Alex's ear. Alex trailed off mid-sentence and turned to look at John, then turned his eyes to the Avengers. Something in his eyes softened, and he nodded. “Well,” he addressed the crowd, “I'd love to continue, but my boyfriend says we're going to be late for our reservations, so I need to wrap this up. In simple terms, everybody’s got a job, everybody’s got a dream, and they're all equally important, and you're all awesome,” he gave the crowd a pair of thumbs up, and the people responded with a thunderous applause. Alex grinned, making a mocking bow, then backing away, only to bump into Tony, causing the both of them to lose balance and tumble onto the ground, Alex on top of Tony.

Tony smirked at Alex. “Why, if you wanted a piece of this,” he gestured at himself, “all you had to do was ask.”

Alex blushed. “I– I don't–“ he swished his head to look at John, who was more amused at this situation than it warranted, clearly living by the saying that ' _schadenfreude is the only true joy'._

 _Tony laughed. “You are an actual human disaster, Alex. C'mon, you have a_ __date_ _ _with John,” he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively._

_Alex punched his shoulder, incidentally hitting the same spot Natasha did a few days ago. Tony groaned. “Seriously?”_

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“Listen to this from this random Jeffersonian dude,” John spoke, starting Tony and Steve, who were focused on watching Bruce create a word containing both X and Y on Scrabble. Clint and Natasha were on some secret mission for SHIELD – unusual these days, but not unheard of – and Thor was visiting Jane, so it was just the five of them. Naturally, Alex was beating everyone at Scrabble without even trying, something which Bruce seemed to take as a personal affront, having been the previous Scrabble champion among the Avengers.

Not looking up from his phone, John read, “'In an attempt to firmly discredit Hamilton, Jefferson – shortly after becoming President – asked Gallatin to examine the archives and uncover the “blunders and frauds of Hamilton”. After searching “with a very good appetite”, Gallatin went back to Jefferson with the following remarkable assessment: “I have found the most perfect system ever formed. Any change that should be made in it would injure it. Hamilton made no blunders, committed no frauds. He did nothing wrong.” Indeed Gallatin went on to say that Hamilton had done such an outstanding job as the first Secretary of the Treasury that he had turned the post into a sinecure for all future occupants. As for the Bank of the United States, Gallatin proclaimed that “it had been wisely and skillfully managed”.'”

Tony snorted. “There's an expression for these kinds of situations,” he said. “'In your face',” he accentuated the idiom with a stab on the table at every word. “Learn it, use it.”

“Tony,” Steve reprimanded long-sufferingly, not unlike a mother scolding her child, fully aware that he's going to be climbing that wall again.

“What?” Tony said defensively.

Bruce stifled a smile. “I think he means that you shouldn't be teaching our Founding Fathers how to curse,” he admonished Tony, who rolled his eyes with a mix of irritation and fondness.

“Does that mean that I can learn?” John joked.

“That's unfair,” Alex pouted.

“Look at what you did!” Tony said, gesticulating at Alex. “You just caused a Founding Father to have a mental breakdown.”

“How very tragic,” Steve said, voice dripping with sarcasm, and whose idea was it to teach sarcasm to Steve? _Right_ , Bucky Barnes'. Tony would kill the guy if he wasn't dead already.

Washington the cat decided to make his presence known by jumping up onto the Scrabble board and hissing at Tony. “See,” Steve pointed at the cat, “even Washington agrees with me.”

Tony glared. “Washington doesn't get a vote in this.”

“Washington so does get a vote,” Steve corrected him. “Washington was the entire _reason_ we even _have_ the right to vote for whatever we want to.”

“I feel like I deserve some credit for that, too,” Alex grumbled, snatching the cat into his lap. “Also, 'ataxy'.”

“What?” Bruce blinked.

Alex rolled his eyes. “The word you're looking for is 'ataxy'.”

Bruce stared. “How can you–“ It dawned on him. “You can see my letters.”

Alex shrugged. “Only because you keep showing them.”

Washington meowed in agreement. Bruce sighed.

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Just as Alex had taken up the quest to educate himself on all things 2017 and then write about them on his increasingly popular liberal political blog (all the while running a separate historical blog criticizing different historians because sleep wasn't a thing that existed for Alex), John took to occupying himself with various reforms and causes, arguably surpassing even Bruce as their resident activist. One Black Lives Matter protest took him to California, which made Alex grouchy because these two were dangerously co-dependent – not that Tony had any room to talk, considering that he wouldn't be able to survive a whole day without Pepper, let alone JARVIS.

Agrouchy Alex was never a fun thing, and, long story short, by the end of the first week, he was getting on even JARVIS' nonexistent nerves, which, _impressive_ , but it also highlighted the fact that the Avengers were at the end of their rope. At this point, Clint considered simply buying Alex a plane ticket to Los Angeles, but Steve, although clearly tempted, shot down the idea, arguing that it wouldn't solve the underlying problem.

Which was how Tony found himself dialing a number from a business card he had once received at some conference or other – he had been too drunk to remember which one at that point – and which he had never thought he'd use. “Hello?” a male voice answered, a 'this better be important' tone underlying the politeness. “You've reached Chernow.”

“Hello, professor,” Tony began. “This is Tony Stark. May I have a moment of your time?”

“Mr Stark,” Chernow said neutrally. “You're polite. That's certainly an improvement from our last meeting.”

Tony winced, then realized that Chernow couldn't see him. “Whatever I did, I'm sorry. I probably wasn't in the best of mindsets.”

He could practically _feel_ Chernow's glare. “It's rather a question of what you did _not_ do that got on my nerves.”

“Sorry about that too. Listen, I have a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for you.”

“Does it involve hookers?” Chernow sounded suspicious. “Because in that case, I'm not interested.”

Tony snorted. “He _is_ bisexual, but that's not the point. How would you like to meet Alexander Hamilton?” Tony knew that it would sound insane if said bluntly, but he had never been one for tact. Maybe Steve – no, Bruce – should have made this phone call. _Oh well_.

To Chernow's credit, he didn't immediately dismiss Tony's claims, which went a long way to indicate his open-mindedness. _Good_. “… I'm listening.”

Tony delivered.

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Alex stormed into the penthouse's kitchen, fumes all but coming out of his ears. “Can you believe the man?” he began angrily. He didn't even pause to look at Tony and his guest, instead heading off to the fridge, opening it up like he wanted to tear it off its hinges, and pulled out a bottle of chocolate milk; he had claimed it as his comfort food as soon as Clint had explained what comfort food was. “He claims that he's not a racist asshole, and yet, _in that very same statement_ , he proves that he is, then claims that _that's_ not racism, that's just reality,” he ranted, taking a swig of it like it was alcohol. Tony and Chernow watched him with amusement, neither feeling like pointing out that one couldn't technically get drunk on chocolate milk.

“Alex–“ Tony spoke, but was interrupted.

“And then he goes on to say that I am an ignorant immigrant and that I should–“

“Alex–“ Tony tried again, with much the same results.

“–stop writing. And then he adds that whole 'I'm a best-selling author, a brilliant businessman, and a billionaire genius' thing of his, and that wasn't just preposterous, that was simply untrue, so I point out that every single one of his companies shut down within two years, casinos within one year, and he just retweets that with the word 'FAKE',” he whipped out his phone. “How's that for unprofessional my a–“

“ _Alex_ ,” Tony grabbed his phone away, pocketing it, finally getting Alex's undivided attention. “There's someone here who's just dying to meet you.”

Alex's eyes turned to Chernow, who had hitherto been remarkably quiet. He tilted his head. “Who are–“ he stopped. His eyes widened. “ _Ron Chernow_?” he breathed.

Chernow grinned, clearly just as excited to meet Alex as Alex was to meet Chernow. That was two birds with one stone if Tony ever saw one. “Indeed. It's my pleasure to make your acquaintance, Alexander Hamilton.” He offered his hand.

At that, Alex looked sharply at Tony, who simply shrugged. “You were going mental with John in LA, and I think Nat was seriously considering murder, but Steve was like 'no, we can't kill a founding father', but she was still sharpening her dagger in that suggestive way she tends to do when she's in between annoyed and royally pissed off, and I felt that inviting Chernow was a necessary evil.”

“I assure you, Stark, the hate is entirely mutual,” Chernow quipped. “But let's back up for a bit: do all of you,” he gestured vaguely with the hand he wasn't still holding out for Alex, “know about him?”

“Yup,” Tony confirmed. “But our boss doesn't.”

“You have a boss?” Chernow raised an eyebrow.

 _Oops_ , Tony thought unabashedly. He shrugged. “Some of us do. Not me, obviously, because I don't do well following orders – except occasionally from Pepper because she's _terrifying_ – but some of us.”

Chernow shrugged. “Fair enough. You learn something new every day,” and woah, if every history professor was this chill about everything unexpected, Tony would have majored at least _once_ in social sciences. “Next question: John who?” he addressed Alex.

“Also, shake the poor man's hand,” Tony advised Alex when it looked like the man had forgotten it was there entirely. “My own hands hurt just by looking at it.”

Alex started, blinked owlishly at the outstretched hand, and hurried to shake it. “John,” he returned to Chernow's topic, “is John Laurens.”

“As in, his _boyfriend_ ,” Tony chimed in, because it had been ten whole seconds since he had last contributed to this conversation. "His very, _very_ gay boyfriend – _in your face_ there, Chernow."

Alex glowered at Tony. “My _partner_ ,” he emphasized. He then grinned, facing Chernow once again. “How much has Tony told you about how we found ourselves here?”

“Only the basics. The Sorcerer Supreme, a magical portal, something about time travel, and de-aging. That was more or less it,” Chernow said with a flippancy Tony envied.

Alex being Alex, he didn't need any further prompting, quickly launching into a long-winded explanation that Tony only was only able to follow because he was a verified genius, and Chernow was able to follow because he had been obsessed with all things Alexander Hamilton for the past two decades.

“And that's how we've found ourselves here,” Alex finished just as Tony was considering leaving, because Alex quite frankly wouldn't notice, while Chernow wouldn't care.

"And since John Laurens is all the way across the country on the sunny beaches of California,” Tony added, “and Alex was too stubborn to admit that he is too dependent on John to even function as a human being, you are here. Desperate times called for desperate measures. _Very_ desperate," he finished, sticking out his tongue at Chernow.

Chernow shot him a withering glare, then disregarded Tony completely. “So tell me about John Laurens,” he began, pen already out, no doubt planning to make notes to compare Alex's story with what his research had turned up, because Ron Chernow was a complete nerd at heart.

Tony rolled his eyes. He stood up. “Yeah, so—I'm just going to—don't mind me, I'm going to—yeah, I'm leaving,” he said when it didn't look like either man would react.

 _Still_ , he thought as he left, absentmindedly listening as Alex began telling Chernow about something or other during his time as an glorified secretary, _it's a good thing there's someone out there who is interested in listening to Alex talk about himself._

**Author's Note:**

> Slightly sleep-deprived author over and out to get some sleep.


End file.
